Deck the halls
by AirborneGirl
Summary: Alesha/Matt Christmas smut. Plane and simple and hopefully enjoyable. Alesha needs help decorating her Christmas tree...and a lot more...


**Deck the halls…**

**AN:** You all know what I just found out? There's no Matt/Alesha smut story in this beautiful fandom! Perhaps it's because nobody wants to tackle the thought of them together after her rape, but I for one think she more than deserves a smutty break with the man she loves. So I decided to write one myself. Naughty, but nice. My Christmas gift to you! Make it a happy one and all the best for 2013!

**Spoilers**: None. Only Matt did NOT DIE!

**Disclaimer**: Dear Santa, I want to find Jamie Bamber in my Christmas stocking. Don't bother with the gift wrapping. Not going to happen? Then they're not mine, I guess. Oh well, on with it…

Every Christmas you promised yourself it wouldn't happen: you would not go crazy with the decorations. Of course, every Christmas it would happen anyway. Last year was a mild case and all you did was decorate a modest tree and hang twinkly lights on the balcony. 2011 had not been a sweet year and your heart wasn't truly in it.

This year, however, promised to be a severe case of Yuletide fever. You had it bad. Besides the lights outside, you found the biggest tree that would fit into your small flat, and bought every string of lights and every trinket that caught your eyes. Tacky would not be tacky enough this year. You deserved some holiday cheer after the year you had. Seeing your best Mate get shot before your eyes surely warranted a bit of fun, especially since he made a full recovery, against all odds.

Okay…it does mean you have to make some necessary phone calls and sweet talk some people into helping you. You start with the obvious. Your cousin Kendra immediately agrees to come help you during the coming weekend, never forgetting how sad and scared you were during those dark days of Matt's slow recuperation, with all the setbacks and complications and the two times you were called in to say goodbye to him when nobody believed he would make it through the next night.

The next one on your list might be a bit more difficult to tackle. He works very hard, has only just gotten back on his feet after his close encounter with his Maker and so his weekend is sacred to him, as well as it should be. So no matter that you're mates, he might not be so willing and if he's not, you won't blame him.

Much to your surprise, he has no other plans yet and he readily promises you to show up on your doorstep bright and early.

"Though you'd better make sure there's enough coffee. I won't do a thing if I can't have a nice cuppa."

"You know it's bad for your heart, don't you?"

"Sweetheart, if I can survive bullets, I can survive anything."

"Please don't remind me."

Though you say it with a laugh, you mean it. There is nothing even remotely funny about remembering him lying there in a widening pool of his own blood. You still thank God every single day for sparing this beautiful man's life.

"Sorry love. But I was serious about the coffee."

"I know. I'll make a whole pot just for you."

"In that case, you can count on me. See you Saturday or else at the office."

Turns out, you don't see him at the office for the rest of the week. And though that's not strange, you miss him. Seeing him, always with a smile on his face, especially for you, makes your stomach do somersaults inside. When you first met him, you instantly and irrevocably fell in love and even though you had hoped the idiotic crush would fade in time, it hadn't. In fact, once you got to know him better, your love and appreciation for him only grew and your crush has now developed to a deep, respectful, blooming love.

A love he has so far answered with an unwavering, solid friendship. With strong support whenever you need it, sometimes even before you know that you do. It still isn't quite enough, but you'll never open your mouth about it out of fear of losing him altogether. If friendship is all he gives (and plenty of that), it'll just have to do. He was and is your rock. You need him, in whatever capacity.

With that status quo, you're nonetheless happy when the weekend has finally arrived. Kendra arrives first, armed with cookies and assorting festive junk, dressed in her finest gear of ancient jeans and red sweater. For some reason she has reindeer antlers on her head, which you decide to ignore, though you do take the Santa hat she's brought for you. After you've given her a steaming mug of coffee, the doorbell rings again and you buzz in your friend.

And gasp when you see him.

Your friendship has never been one to easily cross the boundaries of work and therefore, you've never before seen him in anything else but the suits he wears to the office, combined with a classy coat during winter. You like those suits on him, especially when he wears them in combination with something blue, accentuating his eyes. But this?

The thick leather winter jacket fits him very well. The jeans, which have obviously seen better days, hang loosely around his narrow hips and the t-shirt (a pale, faded blue) shows off some impressive biceps. Looks like your friend hides a very nice shape underneath those suit pants and jackets. A shape that doesn't warrant being hidden. It should be a crime for this man to wear long sleeves. Ever. Not even when it's freezing outside, like it almost is.

"Hey, love. Let's get this decorating frenzy of yours going."

"Thanks for coming, Matt. You want some coffee first?"

"Gladly. It's freezing outside."

Swallowing a hunger you haven't felt in years (since even before your rape), you quickly let him in and pour him a nice cuppa. Then you introduce him to your cousin, before all of you get to work.

Kendra tackles one wall with a string of faux holly leaves with red berry lights while you and Matt (also working in perfect sync) take care of the tree itself. With the radio on and regular breaks for coffee, cookies and sandwiches, the day goes by quickly, but as the sun goes down, you're very satisfied with the results. The tree is decorated to an inch of its short life and lights and banners take op every wall and every available surface. It makes you feel giddy with childish joy. All that needs to be done now is to put the furniture back in place. Kendra's the firsts to say goodbye, declining your offer to order in some dinner as a thank you.

"Next time, Alesha. I got a hot date."

"I want to hear all about it in the morning, you understand? But I do owe you, okay?"

"Okay. I'll give you a call tomorrow. Bye Matt, it was nice meeting you."

"Same here. Have a safe trip home, okay? I'll clean this up with 'Lesh."

Matt quickly wipes his paint-stained hand on his jeans to accept her outstretched hand. As you accompany her to the front door, Kendra pulls you out of earshot from the man inside.

"Alesha, let me tell you, I could imagine doing things to him..."

"Good thing he stays right there, then. Go home, you fool, and don't forget your date."

"Oh, I won't. He has the movie tickets. But seriously. Matt's a winner. He's kind, strong and extremely good-looking. What more do you want?"

"I'm afraid it's not merely about what I want. It's what he wants too and so far, it looks like he just wants us to be friends. So friends we are. Good friends, but nothing more than that."

"And you're absolutely sure he wants you to be just friends? Because the way he looks at you when he thinks you won't notice, believe me, that has nothing to do with being just friends."

You feel a blush creeping up your cheekbones. For some reason, you just know Kendra's not kidding. Having grown up with her, you're more like sisters and you know her every facial expression, the one she's sporting now tells you she's quite serious. And that she would want it to be true, because she knows how you feel about him too.

"Anyway, I'll let you off the hook for now, but if you're smart, you'll snatch him up and never let him go. Really, 'Lesh, after everything you've gone through, you deserve some happiness. Don't let it slip through your fingers."

She kisses your cheek and hurries to the warmth of her small car.

With a last wave and a honking horn she leaves and you close the door behind her, leaning against it to take a breath.

Kendra has always been a straight arrow. She hates beating around the bush, gets straight to the point and hits it with remarkable precision. Of course she knows you love him, but she also knows that you haven't had a sexual relationship since the rape and even before that, your love life was practically none-existent. You're not frigid, you're only maybe a tad old-fashioned. You need to be head over heels in love with a man before sleeping with him. So far, you've only had three meaningful relationships, all of them lasting for several years before either him or you broke up. And after such a break-up, you never threw yourself into the dating scene lightly. It always took you some months to get back on your feet, before being open to a new relationship. Short affairs or one night stands are not your thing. You can't imagine feeling good about yourself if sex is just sex.

But the rape did result in you being even more careful in meeting men. That, combined with the knowledge that, when push comes to shove, no man will measure up to Matt, makes you gradually turn into one sad old spinster.

Oh well, you can't force his hand. If it's true what Kendra thinks, you might one day get your heart's desire. You can wait a while longer. It's safer than jeopardizing your friendship on a mere whim. He's too important for that.

Now that your pulse is back on a more healthy rhythm, you make your way back to the room, where you're promptly being treated to a splendid view of Matt's delicious backside as he squats down to readjust some precariously dangling ornaments. His bare arms are splattered with flecks of glitter and tree sap and you fight the urge to clean him off. With your tongue. Tree sap's not poisonous, right?

Well, there goes your pulse again!

He stands and turns and you quickly pull your poker face back into place. Only to melt again at the spot as he flashes you his gorgeous grin.

"There, all cleaned up. Just be careful walking by it. Something's bound to come crashing down."

He looks satisfied, as well as he should.

"Thanks for everything. I owe you."

"You're welcome, love. I actually enjoy doing a little manual labour every now and then. The cheesy music helped too."

Funny. You enjoyed it too. Watching him doing the manual labour, that is.

"I'll keep that in mind, then. Now really, what do I owe you?"

"Nothing, really. But if you insist, then why don't we order in a pizza? I'm starving."

Your own stomach rumbles in consent.

"Pizza sounds wonderful. Your usual?"

"Great. Oh...before we eat, could I please use your shower first? This tree sap gets sticky after a while."

The mere thought of him standing naked in your bathroom brings lovely shivers down your spine. You're quick to nod.

"Sure. Let me get you a clean towel."

You hand him a fresh one straight from the laundry and show him where he can find everything else he needs.

"I hope you don't mind smelling like lilies. I don't have anything more masculine for you."

"That's quite okay, love. As long as I'm clean. And not smelling like a Christmas tree myself."

You hand him his towel and make your escape when, completely unabashed, he takes off his shirt right in front of you. Heaven forbid he would find you ogling him! You don't think he'll believe your mouth is watering by the mere thought of the pizza.

A moment later, you're sitting rigid on a kitchen chair, with a cool drink, trying to suppress the surges of lust which came up so sudden and so fast you have no idea what to do with them, except for the obvious, which is out of the question.

The shower is being turned on, no pun intended. Immediately, your thoughts run rampant. Matt's in your shower. Naked. Covered in soapy suds. Naked. Droplets of water slowly cascading off his broad chest. His naked chest...

Okay, we established that he's naked. It's not uncommon whilst taking a shower. Stop hammering on it, you obsessed floozy!

The cool drink does absolutely nothing for your body temperature. If anything, you only feel more thirsty. Your mouth has never felt this dry before.

Then suddenly, the sound of the shower changes. Your hearing has always been exceptional, so you detect the slightest difference. Just as you're about wonder why, the bathroom door opens and Matt's voice rings out.

"Lesh? Love, I'm afraid you've run out of shampoo. Do you have another bottle?"

On automatic pilot, you walk to your storage cupboard. You take out a bottle of shampoo and try to hand it over to him without watching.

But, as they say, the flesh is weak…

You look up, meeting smouldering blue eyes. Your attempt to escape his gaze only results in you raking your hungry eyes over his body. His broad chest still shows droplets slowly making their way down until they meet the towel he has carelessly wrapped around his waist, low enough for you to appreciate the narrow slope of his hips.

And appreciate it you do.

Quickly, embarrassed by your slow and thorough perusal of your mate, you look up. His chest is heaving a little, as if he too feels the heat between the both of you. And is not immune to it either.

Then your gaze lands on two small round scars, just above his left nipple, silent and permanent reminders of the scariest day of your life, worse even than the day Merrick took advantage of you in the worst way possible. But Merrick no longer has any hold on you, while this man...oh how you love, love, love this man. Unbidden, moving completely on instinct, your right hand lifts up to gently trace the only imperfect spots on an otherwise perfect male body.

Matt gasps and shivers underneath your touch.

It doesn't stop you. You're no longer thinking straight, all normal thoughts and reasoning have long since left the building. So instead of taking a step back, you take one more forward and press your lips on the same spot your fingers have just caressed.

This time, a low moan escapes from his throat, followed by a soft whisper.

"Alesha, please..."

Since you're not sure if he wants you to stop or continue, you tear your lips away from his chest to look him in the eyes.

If they were smouldering before, than they're burning now. Even after such a long time, you recognize hunger when you see it. And this is not hunger, this is the look of a man dying of starvation upon finding an oasis.

Neither one of you knows who moves first, but it truly doesn't matter.

Your first kiss is almost bruising in intensity. Lips connect, tongues duel and teeth clash. It's carnal and it's so damn good. The loose knot in his towel gives way and as it falls to his feet, you feel his growing desire for you, spurring you on.

Dear God, you want this! You want him! Now!

Matt gets it. With more determination than grace, you quickly undress with his help until you're as naked as he is. For a moment, his movements seize and you feel rather than see him taking you all in, exposed as you are to his hungry looks.

"Oh 'Lesh. My love, you're so beautiful. So utterly gorgeous."

With that, he draws you in and kisses you again, dragging you back to the still running shower. He takes another handful of the lily-scented gel and works it up to a lather. With his soapy hands, he gently caresses every single inch of your body, lingering at all the more sensitive places. He massages your breasts, taking pleasure in hearing you sigh as he playfully squeezes your puckered, hardened nipples. Down he goes to your tummy, than your bum until...

"Matt!"

His name comes out as a strangled cry as he, unexpectedly, traces your folds with his right hand. A rush of wetness surges within you that has nothing to do with the water coming from the showerhead. He stills his fingers for a moment, sweetly checking if your cry comes from desire rather than panic. You're quick to assure him you're fine with his ministrations by kissing him soundly. Your further cries get smothered by your mouths caressing each other as he resumes his delicious exploration of your private parts.

With gentle strokes he parts your soaked folds and inserts first one, than two fingers. You mumble something unintelligible against his lips, feeling him smile. Bending his fingers slightly he easily finds your G-spot and setting a slow rhythm, he determinately drives you mental with pleasure. It's a good thing you have his broad chest to lean against, since you're not quite sure you would be able to sustain yourself. When his thumb joins the sweet torture, carelessly glazing over your throbbing little nub, you almost lose your balance. Holding you upright with one arm, Matt keeps on with the magic until the coil inside you is about ready to break. Suddenly shy, you gasp, but when his eyes find yours, his smile convinces you it's all okay.

"Don't be afraid love. Just let whatever happens, happen. I want you to feel good. Does this feel good?"

He adds a third finger inside of you as he asks the question.

There's no stopping it now. Your scream of ecstasy as you reach your peak is all the confirmation he needs. You shudder and convulse around his stilled digits until, breathless and boneless, you sag against his chest.

Grinning and kissing the top of your head, Matt switches off the shower and wraps the both of you in some towels (you're too far gone to wonder how he knew where to get those from), before lifting you in his arms and carrying you to your bedroom. Again, you don't wonder how he knows exactly where to go.

He lies you down on the bed and with the softest of touches he uses one of the towels to dry you off. The terrycloth material feels wonderful on your heated skin, but Matt doesn't give you any chance to cool off as every stroke with the towel is inevitably followed by a kiss and a lick of the recently dried spot. Your neck gets suckled, so do your breasts. You sigh at the exquisite feeling.

He lingers at your bellybutton, tickling it with the cloth and then his breath, making you giggle. Further and further down he travels. Wherever the towel goes, so does his mouth.

Which means that when, after an excruciatingly long and unnecessary detour via your legs, the soft fabric finally reaches your still tingling private area, you're prepared for what's coming.

Only you're not.

Matt kneels at the end of your bed, dragging you down until your legs are dangling over each of his shoulders. He removes the towel, inhales your scent like a predator and licks his lips in delicious anticipation, settling in for the serious business of making you combust.

Very slowly, his hot tongue takes the place of the towel. He starts with barely licking around your drenched folds, getting closer and closer until he finally licks the entire length of them, getting his first taste of your fluids.

You moan as he comes closer to your pulsating nub. He looks up and smiles at you and you almost curse at him for stopping, but just as you're about to give him a piece of your melting mind, he draws the small organ into his mouth, suckling at it hard, tasting even more of the wetness you produce so copiously for him. The bolts of heat which are shooting through your body as a result are not something anybody could have been prepared for. It's...oh dear Lord, it's so...

You want to say something, but when you open your mouth, all that comes out is a series of pitiful mews, like a new-born kitten. Matt chuckles and you feel the vibration of it on your soaked, sensitive skin. The reprieve is short-lived. Clearly the man enjoys turning you into a pool of boneless, boiling jelly. And boy does he know what he's doing!

His fingers, first one, then two, are added to the game, plunging into your drenched core. Your inner muscles grip his digits like a vice and the new sensation extracts a groan from your throat.

Just when you wonder how much longer you can teeter on the edge, a few licks later, your second orgasm takes you quite by surprise. It's even stronger in ferocity than the first one. You want to scream again, but your vocal chords are out of order and again, all you manage is another mew as your body thrashes and spasms so violently, you almost throw yourself off the bed. Matt keeps up a series of slow licks, drawing out your pleasure as long as he can, before with a final shudder, you float back to earth.

Still feeling weightless, you lazily open your eyes and watch him struggle to get on his feet, only now realizing selfishly that so far, everything has been about you, this lovemaking of yours very one-sided indeed.

So you motion for him to come closer and when he does, stretching down next to you on the bed, you take your time exploring him, from his broad shoulders until the tips of his toes and every perfect inch in between. He shudders, gasps and moans at your ministrations and you take pride in making him lose control like that.

You're getting more daring by the second, spurred on by the cute noises of ecstasy he produces. Only when you want to take his straining erection in your mouth (you don't like doing it, never did, but for Matt you'll gladly make an exception if you can continue extracting these interesting sounds from his throat), does he stop you.

"No darling, please don't."

Instantly, you doubt yourself. It sure seemed like he was enjoying himself before and you've always thought that every man would gladly want his lover to go down on him. So why wouldn't Matt like it? Have you done something wrong?

"Why not?"

He sweetly caresses your face, to show you he's neither angry nor disappointed in you.

"Because, sweetheart, I can tell you're not comfortable with it. And I don't want you to ever do anything you don't enjoy. Not in our bed. Not ever."

You shoot him a surprised look. Not because he's concerned about your wellbeing (you always knew about that), but because he's the first to suggest that there will be more of this in the future. Catching on to your surprise, Matt looks at you seriously.

"Alesha, love, please tell me you never thought this would be a one night stand. Unless...you want it to be..."

He looks vulnerable, as if truly afraid that you might answer affirmative. Too stunned that he might think that, you don't answer at all for a while, trying to come up with something profound enough to convince him you want him now and forever.

You just never dared to believe it would ever get to this. There can be an ocean of difference in between wishful thinking and reality. And though you would never regret tonight if tonight was all you could have, you, for the first time in your life, did not even consider the future before rushing into bed (or shower) with this man.

But now he's telling you he wants there to be a future, wants to have more nights like these...who are you to reject such an offer?

"Honestly, I didn't think at all. I just..."

"Jumped me?" He finishes for you with a wicked grin.

Blushing furiously (which is quite pointless given that he's already seen, touched and tasted every nook and cranny of you), you nod.

"Yeah, something like that. But no, sweet Matt, my darling, I never wanted this to be a one night stand. I want..."

Tears stream down your face unabashedly now that you realize that everything you ever wanted is right up for grabs. Kissing him soundly, pouring all the love you feel for him into the kiss, you finish your answer in a hushed, raspy voice.

"I want to love you Matt. Tonight, tomorrow and lots of times after that, for as long as you'll have me. I love you, so very much."

"I love you too, my darling 'Lesh."

"Show me, Matt."

Without the slightest hesitation, he crawls on top of you and enters your still slick and wet folds. Instantly, your all but subsided desire surges back to the forefront of your being and you arch into him, causing a delicious friction which makes the both of you moan in unison.

Matt, straining not to fall apart here and now, sets an easy pace, but you soon get tired of it as your body demands to be satisfied, right this very moment!

With a hoarsely whispered "faster," he complies and picks up speed. There is no tenderness in his movements any longer, but with the fire (make that inferno) now blazing through your very pores, it's not gentility that you need. All you care for is to quench this thirst, to let the volcano erupt yet again. God, you need to...

Matt moves his hand in between your sweat soaked bodies to find and rub your swollen clit in tandem with his thrusts and...

An elongated, strangled cry leaves your throat when, for the third time, you fall headlong into oblivion, the sound getting mixed with Matt's as he too finally lets go of his control and follows you into the abyss.

It takes every ounce of his leftover energy not to collapse on top of you. Instead, with some effort, he rolls off of you and before you can shiver with the loss of his warmth, he gathers you close in his embrace. For long, still moments, you just lie there, too tired and still too wound up to do anything at all. His one hand lazily caresses your hair, your spine, from neck to buttocks and back. It's soothing and loving and it makes you want to fall right asleep, but you won't because there's still so much you want to know and see and feel and experience about this man.

Your lover. Your sweetheart. Your boyfriend, for lack of a less infantile word.

You giggle at the thought, giddy from the afterglow of your lovemaking. It's been so long since you've felt this liberated, this wonderful about yourself. There have been moments, plenty of them to be honest, where you doubted you'd ever feel this good again, as if you'd never be worthy of a normal sexual relationship. As a result, you had almost, almost resigned yourself to a life without a more physical expression of love.

But now you have Matt and the more this wonderful realization sinks in, the more brilliant it becomes and you can't stop the onslaught of emotions running rampant through your pleasantly aching body.

All of a sudden, you realise you're crying and as soon as you notice, so does Matt. With his thumb, he wipes away your tears, pressing a kiss on each cheek.

"Happy tears, I hope?"

You nod.

"Very, very happy tears. I just can't believe this happened, that we happened."

"I know. But we did. Unless we're somehow stuck in the same dream."

"Is that even possible?"

"Don't know. But if it is, I'm in no particular hurry to wake up. Are you?"

"If this is a dream, let me sleep forever."

"Amen to that."

He kisses you again, when his stomach suddenly rumbles. You start to laugh.

"So much for this being a dream."

He huffs indignantly. Or at least attempts to.

"Hey, it's not many times when reality tops a dream."

You lift your head up from his chest to look at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes

"You dreamed of this?"

"Haven't you?"

"Oh yes, many times. I just…"

"Just what, love?"

"Just never thought we would actually, really, get to this point. There've been times when there was so much going on in both our lives that I honestly thought some higher spirits were working against us. And succeeding in it too!"

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I'm glad we broke that bad spell."

Again, his stomach rumbles, more forcibly this time. And again, you get the giggles.

"Best we order that pizza we planned to have before we got a little…side-tracked. After all, we have to keep our energy up."

"Lady, what are you planning on doing with me?"

"Oh, I can think of a few things…"

THE END


End file.
